Conflicting Desires
by ScotianScribbler
Summary: Dexter encounters a serial killer who commits the darkest murders he's ever seen. Though he knows that he must kill the man, something about his victim makes Dexter apprehensive about the thought of ending his life. Takes place between seasons 3 and 4


_Hi there,_

_I'm writing this to kill time while waiting for season five. I'm placing this story sometime between seasons three and four because I don't want to try writing about a Dexter without Rita, at least not yet. I'm writing from a third person perspective but am including Dexter's thoughts in quoted italics, so it will be easy to tell what is in Dexter's head and what is not. I was invisioning all of this in my head as I wrote it, and concluded that a character I write about named Cesar Mondragon would probably look like real life actor Robert Beltran. I don't know how far along I'll go with this even though I have it all planned out. I tend to lose motivation frequently when I write, but I'll try not to let that stop me this time, especially if people end up liking this. _

_ Anyway...._

**THE SOUP GUY**

It was a hot day in Miami. Beyond hot, in fact. A significant heatwave had swept in the day before. Everyone was feeling it, and the staff of Miami Metro certainly were not exempt. Sergeant Angel Batista, Dexter Morgan, and Detective Joseph Quinn had just finished examining a crime scene in a sweltering suburban apartment building without air conditioning. Though Dexter had appeared unphased by the heat in the building as he examined the blood at the scene, Angel and Quinn had decided that they definitely needed something cool to eat on the way back to the station. So here they were, sitting at a table by the waterfront plaza with their cool treats in hand. A fiercely perspiring Angel sat with a sundae that surely had more calories in it than everything he had eaten the day before, while Quinn sat across the table sucking on a simple pineapple flavoured popsicle. Dexter sat on the same side of the table as Quinn. While he wasn't exactly fond of the detective, Dexter figured that it was better than sitting beside Angel, who looked as if he had just stepped out of a sauna. While the two officers enjoyed their frozen treats, Dexter sat hunched over the table to block the sun from shining onto the screen of his camera which he held in his hands, his eyes tirelessly studying the snapshots of blood that he had taken. As Dexter fingered the right arrow button repeatedly, it was just picture after picture of blood.

"Dex, why don't you go and get something?" Angel's voice interrupted Dexter's trance as he looked up at his supposed best friend who peered back with a half tilted stare. Dexter shook his head, his eyes drifting back down slightly towards the camera screen. "No thanks Angel, I think I'll be able to manage."

Quinn lowered his popsicle from his mouth as he turned his head to focus on Dexter. Feeling the presence of Quinn's eyes on him, Dexter raised his eyebrows and turned his face to the left to eye Quinn who simply looked back with a expression of disbelief and slight disdain. "Morgan, why don't you just get something?" Quinn's voice was very analytical as he looked at Dexter's forehead. "And why the hell aren't you sweating, huh?"

Angel chipped in again, sounding concerned and perhaps even a little pushy. "Come on man, at least get a small cup of ice cream or something."

Dexter, keeping his head narrowed just a bit, shifted his eyes back and forth between Angel and Quinn who both continued to look at him. After a moment, Dexter exhaled through his nostrils and nodded, "You're right, maybe I should get something." As Dexter started to rise, he looked to Angel with a slight smirk, "Talk about peer pressure, huh?"

Angel shrugged as he stuck his spoon into his sundae, twisting it around to get as many toppings onto his ice cream as possible. "Just looking out for a friend, you know? I wouldn't want you to pass out on the way back." Angel scooped up a spoonful of ice cream and stuck it in his mouth, and immediately a euphoric look spread across his face. "Mm! This gets better with each bite. Besides, Dex, what would LaGuerta think if she saw Quinn and I carrying you into the station unconscious?"

Dexter nodded, a half-smile on his face as his arms hung casually at his sides. "Good point, Angel. Be right back."

With that, Dexter turned and began walking across the plaza in the direction of the ice cream cart which Angel and Quinn had purchased their treats from. However, when Dexter was halfway across the plaza, a scent caught his attention. He stopped for a moment, sniffing curiously. Whatever it was, it certainly smelled delicious. Dexter let his eyes glide away from the ice cream cart in the distance and towards the direction that the smell was coming from. At the nearest corner of the plaza Dexter saw where the smell was coming from - a soup van. Dexter took one final glance towards the ice cream cart before heading towards the soup van instead.

_'Quinn will be disappointed when he sees that I'm eating hot soup on a day like today. He wonders why I'm not breaking a sweat? I'm sure he would understand if I told him the truth, that I've felt worse heat than this thanks in part to the suspense provided by my Dark Passenger... But it's probably not a good idea to let him in on my little secret.'_

As Dexter approached the soup van, he was forced to squint from the sun shining directly into his line of vision. The soup chef within noticed Dexter approaching and rested his arms along the counter, eyeing his potential customer up and down. The chef looked to be Latino, average height with a slightly muscular build. His face was almost square shaped, and shoulder length black hair with grayed roots hung messily around his face.

"Hi there!" Dexter called out. "What's the special?"

"You want some soup, ah? The chef responded, leaning out the window and pointing towards a chalkboard menu attached to the side of the soup van. "Pick your poison, my friend. I don' have any prices listed 'cause it's all four dollars."

Dexter allowed his eyes to drift up and down the menu, reading the names of the soup that the man offered.

_________________

Black Bean  
Chicken Noodle  
Cuban White Rice  
Dragon Gumbo  
Jalapeno Chili  
Lobster Bisque  
Oriental Shrimp Noodle  
Split Pea w/ Ham  
Vegetable Beef  
Fries/Onion rings too, $1 order each  
_________________

"So what ya want, ah? I can have it ready for ya in half a minute."

Dexter glanced back and forth between the menu and the soup chef who seemed to growing very excited to be serving Dexter. After a few more glances at the menu, Dexter focused his eyes on the chef and nodded to him, "I'm partial to the black bean soup, but what's in the gumbo?"

The chef rubbed his hands together and grinned from ear to ear. "Ah, dragon gumbo! That's my specialty soup, very popular. If ya aren't shy about a little pork and lentils, then I recommend it! It'll bite ya good!"

Dexter tilted his head back towards the menu as he contemplated for a moment before finally nodding a little to himself and turning back towards the soup chef. He reached into his back pocket for his wallet as he smiled politely. "Make it the gumbo, uh.. ?"

The chef noticed Dexter's inquisitive pause and returned his smile, outstretching his hand to shake Dexter's as well as take his bill. "Name's Cesar. Cesar Mondragon."

After handing his bill over to Cesar, Dexter watched him turn and step around inside the van as he began to prepare a bowl of gumbo. He decided that it would be polite to make small talk while waiting. "Dexter Morgan. So, do you get many customers here?"

Cesar kept his back to Dexter as he overlooked many pots of soup within the van, preparing Dexter's order. "Nah, not here. Lotta people don't want soup on days like this, 'specially not during a heat wave, ya know?" Cesar stirred a pot methodically and vigorously for a moment before scooping several large spoonfuls into a bowl with a steel ladel. He turned and rested the bowl on the counter for Dexter as he crossed his arms and leaned forward on the plank. "Business is good at my shop though. Brickell Avenue, lots of customers and clients."

Dexter perked a brow. "Clients? Do you run more than just a simple soup shop?"

Cesar responded with a quick nod, outstretching a hand of four quarters of change towards Dexter. "Indeed. See, I do catering, deliveries, orders for pick-up. It's good work."

Dexter was slightly impressed and reached out and took his quarters, depositing them in his front left pocket. "Wow, you must have quite a few helpers then."

Cesar chuckled and held his palms up in front of himself. "Nah, one man business venture. I do it all myself, guarantees continuity in the quality of my soup."

Dexter felt his brow raise as he nodded. "That's quite impressive, you must be very busy."

Cesar stood tight lipped as he simply smiled, notioning towards the bowl of soup with a nod. Dexter clued in and lifted it off the counter. The delicious smell that had filled his nostrils raised itself from the bowl and suffocated Dexter. He tilted his face down towards the bowl, but not before peering towards a curious looking Cesar one more time before scooping up a spoonful of gumbo and depositing it into his mouth. Immediately, the flavour spread throughout Dexter's mouth. It was divine!

"Hoo, that's hot!" Dexter exclaimed dryly. "But it's good!"

Cesar watched in satisfaction, nodding. He spoke, his voice heavy with pleasure and self-satisfaction. "Another satisfied customer! Glad ya like it."

Dexter smiled a little and returned the nod. "Thanks, Cesar! Maybe I'll stop by your shop sometime. I have three mouths to feed!"

After dropping his four quarters on the counter as a tip, Dexter turned and headed back towards the bench occupied by Angel and Quinn. The two watched him walk back, and each looked equally confused and flabbergasted that Dexter chose a bowl of hot soup on such a scorching day. As Dexter sat down, Quinn turned slightly, giving Dexter a completely perplexed glare. "What the fuck, Morgan? Soup?"

Dexter's eyes drifted from Quinn's face and to his bright yellow popsicle. _'What the fuck indeed, Quinn. Enjoy your frozen sugar and water. I have soup to eat.'_

As Angel and Quinn watched on for a moment before turning the discussion to the crime scene that they had just left, Dexter could barely pay attention. Blood was the farthest thing from his mind as he savoured each and every bite of the dragon gumbo. As he polished off half the bowl, he peered off towards Cesar's soup van and observed him tending to another customer.

_'My compliments to the chef.'_


End file.
